Bleeding Hearts
by SL the Pyro
Summary: Their lives were tragic. Tragic back then, tragic right now. Can they find something in each other in this household seemingly dedicated to the art of war? LucasxLyn, a quickie for Valentine's Day.


**A/N:** What's this? A new story?

Eh, not really. This one is a Valentine's oneshot I decided to whip up, featuring my favourite couple. Enjoy!

* * *

He was a sad, pitiable sight, laying on the bed in a broken, bleeding mess.

She was very surprised when he was trudging his way through the snow, wearing nothing but his usual summer attire… dripping blood onto the whitened ground with every step. His shirt was no longer wearable due to all the soaking and tatters it had sustained, and had to be thrown away anyway so that she could perform some first-aid. He was covered in cuts and bruises, some recent, some old. Whatever had happened in this temporary tundra had happened before, and there were so many injuries that she was still bandaging them. Why to someone so young…?

"…Why are you helping me…?"

His voice is weary and strained, not too surprising. More surprising was the question he had asked her. She doesn't shirk her duties as she replies, "Do I need a reason?"

"…So it was just out of the goodness of your heart…?" he says with a scoff. "…No, really… why…?"

He seemed to be quite stubborn, despite his physical state. She wasn't in the mood for arguing though, and she highly doubted he was either. "Is that so hard to believe?"

"…You seriously have to ask that…?" he growls. "…I've heard about what happened to you people... because of _them_… I'm surprised you're not beating me to a pulp like the others were…"

Her mouth made a thin line before she spoke again; she was starting to get irritated. She stopped tending to a wound halfway through treatment and asked him, "Well, would you rather I have left you out there to freeze to death?" She waited patiently for a reply, but none came. Maybe he'd sobered up a bit after that remark. "Okay then."

He stares up at the ceiling, lost in thought. This night hadn't been anything new at first. This wasn't the first time it had happened, for him to be beaten on by those miserable excuses for "representatives of other worlds in this tournament." He'd always come back to the manor afterward, he'd always deal with his own injuries. No one really noticed or cared, and he'd come to accept that. The difference came from when someone _did_ notice and care, and he couldn't understand it for the life of him. Why was tonight any different from the other times?

"There, all done." she tells him, having finished with the first-aid. "So… how long has this been happening?"

"Since I got here…"

"That long!" she exclaimed in surprise, hoping he was joking. But when he tried his best to nod, any hopes of that were crushed. He wasn't the type to lie anyway, if she knew him as well as she thought she did. "Why… haven't you told anyone?"

He scoffs and replies, "What good would that do… one lousy punishment and they'll be doing it again the next day, only worse…"

"Better than doing nothing at all."

"…Still won't change anything in the end…"

"Oh, for Pete's sake." she grumbled. "How can you be so lacking in self-esteem if you actually made it into the Smasher's ranks?"

He scoffs, again. "You're talking like I actually _wanted_ to."

"…What?" Now she was very confused. "You… don't want to be a Smasher?"

His voice growled with a silent rage as he replied, "I don't even want to be _here_."

_This_ she simply couldn't fathom. She had always thought being initiated into the Super Smash Brothers elite, the best of the best of the various worlds, was an honour and achievement in and of itself. It wasn't as if she could judge though, being an Assistant, one of those who had come up just a _bit_ short of the Smasher title. There was good reason to be bitter, constantly being looked down upon by their superiors, their true power barely recognized if it even was at all. It was so strange to her, so surreal that one of those superiors was having similar thoughts as her. "...Then why don't you leave?" she asked him, a question she had asked herself so many times before. She believed she could do better, eventually ascend into the higher ranks. What was his reason though?

"...Because I have nowhere to go... this is the only home I have..."

There was nothing she could say to that.

0000000000

It frustrated him to no end, to be affiliated with these people. And when he was frustrated, he went to the training room. He knew it wasn't right to do this, but it had gotten to the point where he just couldn't keep it all inside anymore. The best way to release his anger without hurting those people was to pretend that the training dummies were those people.

Sometimes though, he wondered if they despised the term "people." There were times when he thought they believed themselves to be something more than "people," like they were superior to everyone else, including the one who had gathered them all into this organization to begin with. Yes, they were strong, but what were they but normal people when that strength was taken away? He had tried to make them entertain the thought the very first day he'd come.

That was when the beatings began.

Master Hand, the one who had "saved" him from his crumbling world, had referred to the people he recruited as "representatives of the many worlds with the potential to be heroes." What a blatantly transparent lie. For one, not all of them were heroes, but known _villains_. For two, the Smash Manor was a constant battleground _because_ of this; they simply wouldn't be mature sometimes. For three, they all constantly seek battle with other people. And for four, the ultimate proof that these people were far from heroes, one of the people who participated in the beatings _was a known hero_. Not just to him, but to the other Assistants, just for the sake of proving dominance.

There were times when he wondered if he was the only person in this apparently God-forsaken household that _didn't_ fight simply because he could. Someone who viewed the others as regular people. Someone who didn't think the beatings were necessary. Someone who _didn't like to fight_. Perhaps that last one was what disgusted them the most. Just like no one here could understand how someone here couldn't like fighting, _he_ couldn't understand why people couldn't_ stop_ fighting. They didn't consider him one of them, looking down on him just like an Assistant, wondering why he wasn't with _them_ instead. He wondered that himself.

Oh, how he had tried to find someone within the best of the best that echoed his thoughts. He started with the children, hoping that some of their innocence had been preserved. How wrong he was. Ness stated himself that he was here for the thrill and excitement, and the Ice Climbers gave him the same reply. Toon Link, as everyone called him, didn't even need to be asked; he could tell from seeing the child's emotions that he had the same battle-hungry spirit as his older incarnation. That was all he needed to do for the rest of the "heroes." They were here simply to satiate their hunger for battle, and nothing more. Nothing like Master Hand claimed.

It was poetic irony that the Assistants where in the positions that they were, after he read _their_ emotions. _There_ he found that innocence, that resolve to fight only when absolutely necessary. And oh, how it saddened him. These people were prejudiced upon simply for doing what was _right_. There was Issac, a boy only a couple of years older than himself that fought tooth and nail to save his homeland. There was Shadow the Hedgehog, who was once as battle-hungry as the Smashers, but had seen the errors of his ways when he realized what the "heroes" were becoming. And there was Lyn, who had cut bloody swathes through countless barbarians and monsters in her world, but had learned to curb her bloodthirst and only did so when her life or the lives of her friends were threatened.

Lyn, who had pulled him out of the snow and attended to his wounds... her actions still confused him. Whether he liked it or not, he was a Smasher, and it was well-known among them that the beatings had embittered the Assistants. They hated the Smashers. They hated what their superiors had become, each and every one of them. They didn't care that Lucas was different than them, he knew he was hated just as much for simply _being_ one of them, even though he never wanted to. Why? Why did she help him? What could she possibly gain from it? Was it really out of the goodness of her heart?

It was driving him mad, trying to figure out the nonexistent mystery the Assistant had inadvertently placed before him. There was _nothing_ to gain from an Assistant helping _him_. _He_ was shunned just like they were. No one would thank her. No one would be happy with her. It was aid for the sake of aid, because he was injured. Then why did it bother him so much? Why did her simple gesture of kindness make his heart ache?

The world stopped for him in that moment, when he realized he was turning a blast of frigid air on what was a pile of fluff that used to be a training dummy. He gazed around the room... there used to be exactly thirty-five dummies in the room. He had counted them before hand. Now he saw none. What was before him in the wide expanse that was the training room looked more like a war-torn battlefield that was ravaged by the elements. Flames fed off of the piles of fluff the dummies had become. Spikes of ice jutted out of the floor. Scorch marks from lightning strikes and craters from deep impacts lined the floor and walls. And in his right hand, what had once been a kendo stick had been snapped in two.

This wasn't an unnatural occurrence, for him to lay waste to the training room, look upon the damage he'd caused and be in frightened awe of the devastation he was able to cause. In fact it had happened several times, every time he'd gotten so frustrated that he just had to let it out somehow. And what good was it? It would solve nothing to constantly destroy everything in this room. And yet... he still held fast to his beliefs that there were ways to solve a problem other than fighting, and would not turn his destructive power on those who deserved it. He would not because he feared what would become of them, and of himself. He didn't want to become like _them_.

That girl... at least when this was all happening as if choreographed, he had accepted it and found some sort of balance. Now she sent that balance completely off-kilter, all because she cared... he didn't know whether to thank her or curse her name...

He settled for going to the storage and pulling out another training dummy...

0000000000

New Pork City... oh, how he _hated_ this place. Whether this arena or the real city, both filled him with the same sickness and rage.

It was an anger not helped by his opponents. He was not a devout believer in religion or fate, not after the unfortunate end of his own world, but he couldn't help but wonder what kind of higher power was behind the selection of his enemies this time around. It was a one stock match against those three... those three who constantly beat on him. The first, that blue spandex-wearing "hero." The second, that gray wolf that called himself a mercenary. That third, the moustached man who looked more fat that muscular. He hated them, every single one of them... but... just not enough to do anything about it...!

It was a surprise to none that from the word "Go," they all immediately rushed at him. They saw no need for "weak" people in the arena with them. He loathed that word. He was not _weak_, he simply saw no need to fight when he didn't need to. Did that passiveness make him weak? He didn't think so. He _knew_ it wasn't so. He'd seen their moves so many times before, been hit by them so many times before, that he knew how much damage they would do and how he could best avoid them. When the wolf's boot came up at him, he flipped underneath the platform he was standing on. When the "hero's" boot came at him, he sidestepped. When the fat man's fist came at him, he rolled behind him. Then he floated away on psychic wings to a safer place.

He wasn't weak. All he wished was that he wouldn't have to harm other people unless he needed to protect something. And that was why he never attacked. He could've safely countered every one of those three attacks, but he chose not to simply because he didn't want to _hurt_ them. Whether it was a simulation or not, he would _not_ hurt a _living being_. Because he feared what would happen to them if he did. What was so wrong about that?

He had been hoping they would eventually slip up and hit each other, sparking a fight between them. But it never happened. They were careful, so careful not to hit each other. They wanted him gone _first_, as if he were some kind of disease that would ruin their fight. But they as they might, they couldn't land any hits on him either. He was too fast, too good at predicting their movements. They couldn't attack him, and they wouldn't attack each other. It was a stalemate, with no damage being dealt to anyone.

Until the shimmering, blue capsule fell from the sky that is, making his eyes sparkle with delight. It was potentially the key to ending this meaningless fight. He didn't like hurting people, but he knew the Assistants had no such qualms. In fact they would jump at the chance. He made his way towards it as fast as he could. He avoided the wolf's claw. He avoided the "hero's" fist. He avoided the fat man's titanic jaws. Then, he held the capsule in his hand, high above his head, allowing himself to feel some form of sadistic pleasure. Now they would get their just deserts.

The capsule cracked open, the moon-blue light blinding all but the holder, and out came the Assistant... and he could not believe who it was. None other than the girl who had saved him, who had tended to his wounds just last night. Lyn. He looked at her. She looked at him. She was as surprised as he was, but she seemed... happy. Happy that _he_ had been the one who had summoned her. He could feel something else from her, too... a desire... a strong desire.

"I'll handle this."

Her words carried a desire to protect him. And then, in that moment, he understood where the mystery stemmed from. Why she both comforted him and frustrated him. There was no one to comfort or protect him anymore. The only people he knew who would have ever comforted and protected him were dead, _from_ trying to protect him and because he had failed to protect them. The memories were painful, in a way that he would never really forget. And for the briefest of moments, even though they felt like an eternity... he could've sworn he saw that same pain in her eyes.

Suddenly, he understood everything.

Then the ambush began anew. The three of them, the "hero," the wolf and the fat man, all lunging for him at once. Lyn gripped the hilt of her Mani Katti, and faster than his eye could make out, it was all over. Lyn was standing in a position that indicated that she had just attacked, her luminescent, blue katana drawn. The "hero," the wolf and the fat man were screaming in surprise and pain as they flew off together. He could one stare in awe as one by one, they hit the unseen barrier of the arena and erupted into a shower of rainbow lights and sparkles.

She sheathed her katana and turned to him. The shower of light made her appear radiant... "I'll protect you from now on, Lucas..."

The last thing he was aware of was a tear dripping down his cheek, before the arena faded to black...

0000000000

She knew. From the moment he said those words to her last night, she knew.

Lucas was just like her. He had no home to return to because it was likely destroyed. She knew what that was like, having her home village burned down. He saw no reason to fight when not protecting anything. She knew what that was like, feeling embittered when forced to strike someone in a match when the summoner wasn't in any _real_ danger. He was alone. She knew what that was like, it had been days before the Sacaens had found her after the disaster that left her and would never forget how helpless she felt back then. He was looked down upon by the Smashers. She _definitely_ knew what that was like... sans the fact that she hadn't been "beaten" yet.

But she had seen the result of the others that _had_ been beaten. She had been the one to tend to some of their wounds. It filled her with constant rage that these people would show such reckless disregard for the lives of others, and it filled her with constant fear that she might be next. They hadn't "beaten" any girls yet, which gave her some tiny hope that they weren't _all_ corrupted by their own power. But that hope was shattered when she saw what had happened to one of _their_ own, by their own hands. He was so young. He had already suffered so much. He had done nothing to deserve such cruelty. That was why she wanted to protect him. She didn't want him to have to endure any more suffering.

That's why she was out here in the snow-covered fields, waiting for him, waiting for _them_. She knew after their defeat that they wouldn't be happy and would take out their frustration on the poor boy that wouldn't fight back. And eventually they did come. The "hero," the wolf and the fat man. Each wearing an expression more sinister than the last. But she didn't see Lucas among them.

"Well, that's convenient. Now we don't have to drag her out of the manor."

The fear returns. They weren't here for _him_.

The assault started with no warning whatsoever. The wolf lunged at her, and she barely had time to stop his claws from leaving deep gashes on her face, instead catching them with the Mani Katti. The fat man came at her from the side, faster than she believed he could move, tackling her away... the fear had grown much stronger when she realized she had let go of her katana from the impact. The wolf now dangled it in his hand, then jammed it into the snow-covered ground. The "hero" came at her from behind, and she was unable to react as her grabbed her arms and locked them behind her at a painful angle. She tried to kick him, but he had somehow managed to wrap his leg around her own, also pinning them in place. He was too strong to break free from. She couldn't move, and that was terrifying when around these monsters. She screamed in protest, only to have the fat man cover her mouth.

"She's hot... maybe we can have a little more fun with this one..."

She could only try to scream louder as she realized what the fat man was implying, but it was muffled by his hand. He had her face cupped in a way where she couldn't even bite the offending limb.

"Let her go..."

That voice was not one of theirs. They all turned to see who had intruded on their "fun." It was _him_. The fat man's hand left her mouth, and she was about to scream for him to run. And then she noticed his expression... his face was stoic, but his eyes were darkened. Hate-filled. His hands were balled into fists, shaking not of fear, but what was most likely rage. She knew that look. She'd seen it on many a warrior, a look that implied imminent doom for whomever or whatever was caught in the stare.

And all they did was laugh. Laugh at this boy who they believe to be weak.

An explosion rocked the ground, shining of green light, promptly silencing them all. His finger was pointed at the small blast crater which was right at the "hero's" feet.

"I don't think you heard me clearly... I said, '_Let her go_.'"

"Wahaha! Where's-a this-a wuss-a getting a spine all of-a the sudden?" The fat man wasn't intimidated. Neither were the rest, judging from the wolf grinding his claws together and the "hero's" grip on her only tightening further.

"You're ganging up on a helpless girl. You shouldn't be talking about having a spine, Wario." came Lucas' blunt reply.

The fat man was visibly outraged. "_Why-a you_!" He seemed to completely forget about me and charge straight at him.

"Lucas, run!" I call out to him. But he doesn't move. Wario uses his surprising speed to close the distance between then, rushing at him like an angry bull.

Then, just inches before colliding with him, the fat man instead collides with an orange panel of some sort. A net of orange, diamond-shaped panels, protecting Lucas from all sides. The net sparks where he collided, until it ultimately pushes him back roughly and vanishes. He retaliates quickly, much more quickly than I thought he could, his body glowing a similar shade of orange as he drives his fist squarely into the fat man's jaw. He flies back not one or two feet, but several feet before rolling along the snow well behind the "hero." They can only look on in shock. _She's_ shocked. She never knew he had such strength.

"I'm won't run." he says. "Not this time. Not when they harm something I want to protect." My eyes widen at his words. "You hear me, you freaks! I won't ask you again! Let her go, _now_!"

"Pfah! One-a lucky punch and-a you think-a you can order us around?" The fat man got back up, quickly retaking his spot beside the wolf. There was a large, red mark on his face that he was ignorant of.

"You wouldn't know that. You've never actually seen me fight for real." Lucas said in a low, threatening voice. "I have so many ways to beat the life out of you that by the time I'm done, you'll be _begging_ for death. And that's exactly why I _don't_ use it, because I _don't_ want to take someone's life. But right now, you three are _really_ trying my patience..."

"Geez! What's gotten into this kid all of the sudden?" the wolf growls, taking a stance that indicates he's going to lunge at any moment.

The "hero" grabs her by the collar of her warrior's dress and violently throws her aside. The cold of the snow is wet and almost painful against her hands. "Well, if he's asking for a whooping..."

He stands his ground as they all rush. Claws, feet and fists are all about to slam into him, and instead slam into the strange net diamond-shaped barriers that appeared last time. Cracks start to form in them, as if the entire shield were a solid mass. But Lucas looks calm and composed, a green light forming in the palm of his right hand. The light extends outward, forming a hexagonal shape in front of him, floating above his hand.

From that hexagon, a large spray of similar hexagons floods out. Each one exploding on contact with their targets. The "hero," the wolf and the fat man cry out in surprise and agony as they are pelted with the tiny explosives, so forcefully that they are sent flying away, smoking as they land in the snow.

Now she understood why he was a Smasher and not an Assistant with that kind of power to command...

He lowers his hand, and the shield and the exploding hexagon fade into nothingness. Then he walks towards her, the moonlight casting a shade over his face. At first she felt scared, but then she remembered he did this for her. He stops in front of her, and they look at each other. Even shaded as they are, she can see the darkness and sorrow in his eyes... so much like she used to be...

"Are you alright?"

Did they do any irreparable damage to her? No, she don't think so... about the worst was when she had the wind knocked out of her by the fat man. She shakes her head in reply.

"You said you wanted to protect me?"

Her gaze travels to her sword still jammed into the snowy ground. How could she protect _him_ if she couldn't even protect _herself_?

He extends his hand to her, smiling as he offers the alternative. "Then please... let me protect you too."

There's not a second of hesitation before she takes his hand with a similar smile, and he pulls her up onto her feet. She looks at the snow where the "hero," the wolf and the fat man are. "Is it safe to leave them?"

"I used a low-power blast. They'll be fine." he tells her. "I'm not sympathetic enough to help them tonight, anyway..."

She couldn't argue with that.

0000000000

"I hardly ever turn my powers on living beings... the only person I've ever hated that much was Porky..." She listened intently. The door to her room was locked and barricaded from the inside, giving them some semblance of privacy and safety after the night's events. "When I saw what they were about to do to you, something inside of me just... snapped..." he continued, his voice trembling. "I was so angry... like I didn't care what happened to them anymore..."

She understood. She understood completely. "As the man said, 'With great power comes great responsibility.'" He looked up at her, confused. "I've seen what happens to people with great power who don't know how to use it... these people aren't completely mad, just... drunk off of it."

It made perfect sense to him, hearing it put into perspective like that. "Maybe that's why I don't just get rid of them..." he wondered. "As mean as they've been to me, they haven't done anything that can never be fixed. And tonight, they nearly did..." He looked away from her in shame. "I hardly even know you, but... if they'd gotten away with what they were about to do... I don't know what I would've done..."

She closed her eyes, remembering what _she_ had done in the days following the death of her parents. How many bandits had died by her hand in her prejudice? She dared not try to think of the exact number. "It's best not to think about it, Lucas... take it from someone who knows..." She was going to say something about him being too young to know, but she didn't. He'd been through just as much suffering as her, if not more. He was more mature than most of the Smashers and deserved complete honesty.

He didn't even need to ask what she meant by that. "Do you think the pain ever really goes away? From losing something so precious to you?"

She looked at him again, trying to think of an answer. It was a very good question. She could only reply with what she believed. "I don't think it ever does..." she began, shaking her head. "But we can't live in the past. My Grandfather once told me, 'It's better not to dwell on what has been, but instead to focus on what is and what will be. Neither we or the world are getting any younger.'" The last part of that quote made him chuckle a bit. It wasn't at all unlike the lament of an old man. But he had to admit, there was a good deal of truth to it. It made her feel happy, to see him smile. He must hardly ever smile anymore. She cupped one of his cheeks with her hand, and she could feel it heat up from the sudden contact. "The point is, you've gone through all of that pain, and you've endured it. You still know when and why your power is needed, and that's where true strength comes from. Don't ever lose that."

He touched her hand and gave her a look of determination. "I won't. I promise."

She smiled at him and said, "Good."

Then she did something he didn't expect, leaning forward and pressing her lips to his forehead. It made him gasp lightly, but at the same time it felt... soothing. As she moved away, his eyes caught the clock. It was past midnight. Wait... wasn't the previous day the thirteenth?

Oh, this was ironic.

A bold, playful joke wormed its way into his mind. "Umm... was that your way of saying you want to be my Valentine?" he asked.

He couldn't help but grin when her face flushed a deep red? "What?" He pointed to the back wall where the clock and calendar was, and only when she turned to look at them did she realize what he meant. And she couldn't help but laugh. "Well..." She turned back to him, deciding to play along with the joke. "Maybe..."

Then she kissed him again, this time on his own lips. She kept her eyes open just long enough to see the surprise on his face.

It was then her turn to be surprised when he started to kiss back...

Maybe it wasn't that much of a joke.

* * *

**A/N:** And that's it.

What, were you expecting a full-blown romance scene from me? Of course not, I'm terrible at writing romance. This was just something I really wanted to get out in case I don't get the chance to with _Doomsday_. My fuel for writing that story has been running out lately...

...I feel like I'm forgetting something important...

...Oh yeah. Happy Valentine's Day!


End file.
